Ode to the Typewriter
I want my Gido's old typewriter. Badly.
I think it would complete me.
Funny to think that a heavy hunk of metal that smears ink on your fingers when changing the ribbon could complete someone.
But it's been a part of me since as far back as I can remember. I remember, before I could even read, mashing keys and producing letters on a chalk white page that stood erect wedged in the platen.
It felt like freedom.
I think it would complete me.
Funny to think that a heavy hunk of metal that smears ink on your fingers when changing the ribbon could complete someone.
But it's been a part of me since as far back as I can remember. I remember, before I could even read, mashing keys and producing letters on a chalk white page that stood erect wedged in the platen.
It felt like freedom.